


Junjou Sadist

by OokamiKasumi



Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: M/M, Rape Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OokamiKasumi/pseuds/OokamiKasumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I discovered that I, Akihiko Usami, was a sadist in the truest sense of the word, the exact same moment I fell in love for the first time. (COMPLETE)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Junjou Sadist

Characters property of Shungiku Nakamura

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I discovered that I, Akihiko Usami, was a sadist in the truest sense of the word, the exact same moment I fell in love for the first time.

It happened at the funeral being held for a classmate's parents. Mr. and Mrs. Takahashi had died in a tragic car accident leaving behind my schoolmate, Takahiro, who was only months from high school graduation, and his little brother Masaki, who was still in primary school.

In a house swathed in black crepe, and surrounded by older and elderly relatives all dressed in black formal wear, Takahiro knelt in his starched black school uniform on a black pillow against the left wall, right by the coffins. Behind the oval lenses of his glasses, tears gleamed on his cheeks and sparkled at the tips of his lashes. His ash-black eyes were huge; magnified by his weeping and the tragedy that had befallen him.

Pressed against Takahiro's side with one hand fisted in Takahiro's uniform, the brown-haired first-grader was barely noticeable. The child was completely silent, merely a pair of gigantic golden-brown eyes in a bone-pale face. His other fist was tight against his tiny mouth, clearly sucking his thumb.

I _certainly_ didn't take much notice of the child. My entire attention was on the vision that was Takahiro. Kneeling formally on the pillow, his body was perfectly composed, but so tense. The tears on his face so ethereal... His eyes, so huge and _vulnerable_... His lips were so pale, moist, and slightly parted...

The view was impossibly gorgeous--and violently arousing.

I wanted to touch those wet cheeks. I wanted to smell his dark hair. Did tragedy have a distinct scent, like fear? I wanted to push him down and rip open that uniform to see if his chest and belly were as translucently pale as his cheeks. Were his thighs...? I wanted to _bite_ that pale neck and _force_ color to bloom.

Takahiro would protest, of course. Likely, he'd cry out and weep even more...

I froze, eyes wide, my thoughts arrested by the vision of what that would look like--and _sound_ like. My semi-aroused cock rose to full throbbing erection.

That's when I realized that I wanted Takahiro--in the most carnal and base way imaginable.

I wanted to _make_ him shed those impossibly beautiful crystal tears. I wanted to _bruise_ that pale skin with my fingers, and pinch his dusky pink nipples. I wanted to _taste_ his flesh with my mouth, and score him with my _teeth_. Even worse, heedless of all protests, I wanted to take his cock into my hands and stroke it to erection, then with my mouth; suck it, tease it, and _torment_ it just so I could listen to the music of his agonized cries, his gasping moans, his tiniest whimpers...

I wanted him to _beg_ me to let him cum.

And then...? Oh God, and _then_...! I would turn him over onto his stomach and spread those pale white ass cheeks with my hands to expose the snug rose of his anus. Perhaps I would lick it a bit, just to make him squirm, but after that I would make him suck on two of my fingers to get them wet, and then use them to delve deep into his virginal hole--encouraging him to open for my crowning act of debauchery.

Once satisfied that I wouldn't tear him open, I'm not into needless damage, I would take my hard and dripping cock, pierce that tender little orifice, and fuck him-- _and fuck him, and fuck him, and fuck him, and fuck him, and fuck him, and fuck him_...! All while listening to the music of his sobbing, pleading voice.

I would fuck him until he came screaming my name--his cum spurting all over everything, hot and fragrant with his unique scent.

_Those_ were the tears I was most desperate to see--the tears of _passion_.

Then, while I had him still impaled on my cock, his body shuddering helplessly in my arms with the aftershocks of spilled lust, I would deliver the final blow. I would shove my cock in as deep as I could go; my balls tight against his spread and abused anus, and into his hot, tight ass I would pump every last drop of cum I could squeeze out.

As a dessert to such a course of carnal pleasures, I would pull my spent cock free of his body and watch my cum leak from his ass and slither down his pale thighs.

It was a cruel fantasy--a _sadistic_ fantasy. However, that didn't change the fact that I very nearly came in my pants because of it. In fact, that fantasy gave me the first real erection I'd _ever_ had in my entire young life. The damned thing _throbbed_.

I rose to my feet, hoping to find the bathroom to...relieve myself. In that moment, I thanked my father's anal-retentive habit of always making me dress in a suit and tie. The suit jacket was just long enough to cover the...evidence of my circumstances.

I made my way to the bathroom only to discover that I had been followed.

Right behind me was Takahiro with his little brother clinging to his jacket hem, rather like a stuffed toy. Takahiro's gaze widened, and then he smiled. It was the saddest, sweetest smile I ever saw.

It went straight to my cock. I very nearly lost it right there. I couldn't help but grab my crotch. Having an erection, never mind being this close to cumming was rather new for me.

Takahiro blinked. "Oh, you must really need to go?"

_Understatement of the century_. My face burned, but I simply couldn't look away from him. "Something like that."

Takahiro's smiled again, and it was just as devastating as the one before it. "I just need to the sink, so if you don't mind, we could...share?"

Toilets, as a rule, were located within the washroom, but in their own tiny alcove completely separated by a door. So, in other words, would I mind Takahiro using the sink while only two to three feet away, I used the toilet to relieve my aching cock with only a thin plywood door between us?

I pushed the washroom door open, and stepped back with a smile. "Not at all."

I followed him into the small family bathroom, closed the door behind us, and came up behind him. He smelled of funeral incense, but also of soap, shampoo, and human warmth. He smelled fresh--and pure.

Too pure for _my_ fantasies. Not that it stopped me.

I backed away to step into the washroom and closed the door. "So," I called out, "What do you plan to do now?" It was a heartless question I suppose, but I didn't realize this until afterwards. I just wanted to hear his voice.

"Well, I plan to quit school and get a job, so I can support Masaki." Despair was very evident in his voice.

I practically ripped my pants open to get my cock out. After licking my palms; spitting would have been too tell-tale, I began stroking like a madman. My mind began replaying my entire fantasy--with a few minor adjustments for the current location. Gods! I had to get him talking again! "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

"It's what I _need_ to do. I can't lose the only family I have left." He sounded so tragic.

It made my cock _h_ _urt_! I gasped and bit back a moan.

Footsteps approached the toilet door. "You sound rather...breathless. Are you alright?"

With his voice so close --only inches away-- I pressed my left palm against the thin door between us, while my right hand stroked my cock furiously. "I..." God, I couldn't get my breath! "I just wish there was something I could do."

There was a surprisingly loud hitch of breath. "You... You're a good friend." There was a distinct note of breathless despair in his voice. A subtle sniffle followed. He was clearly weeping.

A vision of him in tears seared across my brain.

My balls tightened viciously. I couldn't hold back my gasp or my groan while I emptied my balls against the door. I also couldn't help but imagine that if that door had not been there, I would have spilled all over the front of his pants.

I cleaned up as fast as I could. Thank the gods there was plenty of toilet paper. I burst through the door and lunged at Takahiro, taking his trembling body into my arms.

He burst into fresh tears, thoroughly soaking the shoulder of my jacket.

For a good five minutes, I was in Nirvana; whispering sweet nothings, rubbing his slender back, breathing in his rich, pure scent... Such incredible feelings welled up in me, tenderness, affection--and overwhelming possessiveness. I was _in_ _love_ , I was certain of it. Therefore, the next logical step was... "Takahiro, I... I want you to know that...I love you."

Takahiro pulled back and smiled with tears glistening on his lashes. "I love you too. You're the best friend a guy could have."

Just like that, I understood exactly where I stood. I was a _friend_. For someone like me who had very few of those --being blue-eyed, and ash-blond in a country full of black-haired, black-eyed people will do that-- one would think I would treasure that word _friend_. Instead, I LOATHED it.

Someone banged on the door.

Takahiro pulled out of my embrace. "I'm so sorry to burden you like that."

"Don't be." I smiled, though I felt more like weeping. In fact, my eyes were suspiciously itchy. "What are f-friend's for?"

After a quick wash of my hands, and he his face, we left the washroom. I planned to stay by his side, but unfortunately, my ride was ready to leave.

That night, I put pen to paper and wrote my very first porn story; a story about two schoolboys. I wrote it in English, my mother's language. It was a language my utterly nosy and completely Japanese half-brother didn't care to read or write, so there was no worry that my...perversion would be discovered.

Years passed.

While I did continue my relationship with Takahiro, our interactions always followed the exact same pattern.

Takahiro would weep over something, usually his little brother.

I would hold him in my arms, tell him I loved him, and offer to help in any way I could.

He would thank me for being his best friend.

I would then go off and masturbate, and later write whatever perverted fantasies had come to mind while I masturbated.

That was it.

Despite my adoration for Takahiro, our relationship never went further--for almost _ten frustrating years_.

Then one day, Takahiro phoned me saying that he needed a favor.

I was thrilled. In all the years I'd known him, Takahiro almost never asked for a favor. Had he finally realized that I was in love with him? Had my repeated _I love you's_ finally made it through his thick and somewhat vapid skull? I was so excited at the prospect that before I left for his house that evening, I masturbated at least three times.

The instant I got through the door, I took Takahiro into my arms. "So, what do you need? I'll give you anything you want! You name it, I'll do it!"

Then Fate stepped in, in the form of Takahiro's not so young anymore little brother. The boy had changed over the years, and somehow I'd missed it entirely. Misaki looked absolutely _nothing_ like his quietly handsome older brother.

Unlike Takahiro's very Japanese appearance, Misaki looked like a fairy among mortals. He was that _pretty_.  His golden-brown eyes were huge in a pixie-delicate, heart-shaped face with a small Cupid's bow mouth of shell pink. Even his hair was fey. It was a chocolaty brown that curved up at the ends with honey-gold highlights. Everything about the boy was delicate, waifish, sweet, and _vulnerable_. 

\--Except for his gaze.

Misaki's eyes seemed to hold a core of flames. It was painfully obvious that he could clearly see what his elder brother had missed all these years--that I wanted Takahiro _carnally_.

That was when Fate delivered her cruelest blow.

Takahiro turned to me with a smile. "I'd like you to be Masaki's tutor."

I stared at the man I loved in complete shock. Takahiro wanted me to spend days, if not weeks, with this sweet confection of a sadist's rape-victim fantasy come true? Misaki was probably a virgin too. He was much too pretty to attract a girl. No female could handle _that_ kind of competition in the looks department. It was also pretty obvious that he didn't have the awareness that comes from being hit-on by guys--not yet anyway. 

Did Takahiro have any idea what he was asking?

Considering our shared history...? Probably not. Takahiro was so oblivious when it came to me that he probably didn't realize that I was even attracted to men. He certainly wouldn't know that I'd been devouring cute little pretty-boys -- _like his brother_ \-- since my senior year in high school. In fact, ever since I'd discovered my _inclination_ that day at the funeral.

Well, technically I was bi-sexual. If it was cute, I fucked it no matter what the gender. 

Takahiro was strangely insistent. He really wanted me to be Masaki's tutor.

I was strangely reluctant. Masaki was definitely to my particular taste, but I loved Takahiro. I didn't want to hurt him--and raping his younger brother was definitely on the list of things that would hurt Takahiro.

That didn't stop me from wondering what Masaki look like in tears.

Then another thought occured to me. This might be the wake-up call Takahiro needed. _Hmm_... 

I agreed to do it. I would tutor Masaki if he wanted me to. I then set out the key and pass code to my front door, and smiled at Misaki in the exact same way one would smile at a gourmet dessert. If that kid was actually foolish enough to walk through my front door, I refused to be held accountable for my actions.

To his credit, Misaki cheeks pinked in a very charming manner.

Hmm... Perhaps, despite his lousy grades, Misaki was a bit more perceptive than I gave him credit for? Certainly more so than his brother. For that reason alone, I decided to show some mercy. 

If Misaki was actually brave enough to come through my front door, I'd give him one last warning. I'd leave the mangas I'd most recently published out on the coffee table where he couldn't hope to miss them--the yaoi ones.

If _that_ didn't scare him off, Takahiro or no Takahiro, Misaki's cute little ass was _m_ _ine_.

~ * ~


End file.
